


All Wrapped Up In Lace

by Charlie Snow (Algedonic)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Sam In Panties, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 10:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Algedonic/pseuds/Charlie%20Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam dresses up for Valentine's Day. </p><p>(Sam is 16-17)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Wrapped Up In Lace

Sam almost calls the whole thing off. He stares at himself in the mirror for way longer than he’s ever going to admit, biting his lip and aggressively ignoring the tiny (so, so tiny) stack of what barely qualifies as clothing on the counter.

He almost backs out, except that backing out would only mean explaining to Dean why his legs are shaved smooth when they weren’t this morning and admitting the whole thing without ever letting Dean see the full effect, and that just seems… like a waste.

He takes a deep breath and picks up the panties, looks at them, really looks, and smiles.

It makes him nervous because he wants is so bad. It’s not totally out of the blue, really - there was a night a month or two ago, Sam with his wrists pinned to the bed, flat on his back while Dean nipped at his neck and ground their hips together, rutting like drunken freshmen just cause it felt good to be like that sometimes, let it build and build and come just like that, just from the feel of skin on skin and Dean had talked, babbled, really, _saw these lacy little panties today, Sammy, look so good on you, perfect little ass all wrapped up in lace for me, kissing at your pretty cock through the fabric,_ fuck _, Sammy, fuck_ and it was straight out of his fantasies, something he’d been quietly jerking off to for a long time, wearing something like that, wearing it for Dean.

It’s not totally random. It’s something he’s wanted and thought about and something Dean’s whispered hot and dirty in his ear when he was a little too far gone to filter, and yeah, he’s nervous, but the kind of nervous he was moments before Dean kissed him for the first time, when Dean looked him in the eye right before he’d fucked him for the first time. Scared nervous, but good nervous.

He pulls them on. It’s strange, the way they slide up his legs, skin over-sensitized and hairless for the first time literally ever. He likes it. Likes it a lot more than he thought he would.

He’s spent nearly an hour shopping for the right pair. Lace and satin and cotton, boyshorts hiphuggers briefs thongs, things with so little fabric that Sam wondered sort of absently how the stores even got away with charging money for them. The pair he’d settled on were all lace and left nothing to the imagination, deep red skimpy little hiphuggers, tight and a little constricting but stretchy and comfortable and Sam was a tiny bit in love with them.

He has to take another minute to convince himself to go for it with the stockings, the same red as his panties, thigh high with thick lace trim, but he bunches them up and pulls them on carefully and looks at himself in the mirror and has a crazy moment of disconnect where he doesn’t even really recognize himself as himself.

He’s never done anything like this before and it’s turning him on like nothing else, cock half-hard and almost obscenely obvious. He feels _hot_ , feels _fuckable_ , and it’s not a word he usually applies to himself, teenage awkwardness and too-long limbs and skinny skinny bones sticking out all over the place, but like this… he flushes, adjusts himself in his panties, and almost jumps straight out of his skin when he hears the front door open and close.

"Sammy?" Dean calls, and Sam takes a deep breath and centers himself as he hears Dean set down whatever he brought home with him on the kitchen table. "Sam. You here?"

"Yeah. Be out in a sec."

"Better not be jerking off in there, Sammy." Dean says, and the grin Sam can hear in his voice calms him down just a little. "Got big plans for you tonight."

Sam gives himself one last once-over, ignores the jittery shaky excited nervousness that’s making his stomach feel the same way it did the one and only time he ever rode a rollercoaster, and opens the door.

Dean’s got his back to him, bent over something on the kitchen counter and Sam forces himself to breathe and his legs to actually work and steps out of the bathroom.

"Happy Valenti-" It’s as far as he gets, mouth dropping open, pen clattering to the floor as he turns around and lays eyes on Sam. "Holy fucking shit."

Sam blushes from the roots of his hair all the way down to his belly button, hot kick of lust knocking around in his blood and his nerves and his bones. He’s suddenly not sure what to do with his hands, fidgets a little as Dean just stares at him.

"Oh my God. Holy _fuck_ , Sam.” And then Dean’s across the room, in Sam’s space, expression Sam recognizes as part awe and part hunger on his face, and good. That’s exactly what he was hoping for.

Dean’s hand lands gently on his hip, thumb brushing over the lace trim and Sam shivers. “These for me?” Dean asks, voice rough, forcing himself to look up and meet Sam’s eyes.

Sam nods. “You like ‘em?”

“ _Fuck._ ” Dean breathes, and it’s all the warning Sam gets before Dean’s kissing him hard and hungry, walking them back until Sam’s back hits the wall and Dean’s hands are everywhere, groping at his dick and squeezing his ass and grinding their hips together as he pushes one leg between Sam’s and breaks away to kiss and bite at his neck. Sam gasps, feels how hard Dean is in his jeans and it’s such a turn on, Dean being fully clothed pinning him to a wall while he’s in nothing but barely-there panties and thigh high stockings.

At some point Dean gets his hand around Sam’s thigh, growls and pulls until Sam gets the message and lifts up, wraps his legs around Dean’s waist and they come like that, rubbing off against each other while Sam whimpers and Dean whispers all sorts of sugary filth in his ear.

Sam lets his legs down, slides down the wall until he’s sitting and Dean follows him down, kissing at his shoulder and his collarbone and ear and his neck while Sam plays with his hair and grins. “You like them.”

"Love ‘em, Sammy. God, you’re so hot. How are you so hot?"

Sam pulls him up and kisses him. “Guess it runs in the family.”

There’s no saving the panties by the time Dean’s done with him that night, but Sam doesn’t mind. He can buy more.


End file.
